


Call Me Baby, Run Your Hands Through My Hair

by Paxalot



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Trans Lexa, band au, this is going to be happy because i have cried too much about clexa, you can pry trans lexa from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 13:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15752850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paxalot/pseuds/Paxalot
Summary: Clarke Griffin, doctor at Arkadia General hospital gets dragged out one Friday night by her friends to go see the newly famous band "Woods" perform at a local bar. Her night out is cut short by an unfortunate accident that ends in a surprise trip to the hospital, a mysterious singer and the promise of pancakes.





	1. Someone New

**Author's Note:**

> There is an accompanying playlist to this work: https://spoti.fi/2MEHSvP

       It wasn’t that Clarke didn’t want to go out, of course she did. They didn’t call her party-girl-Griffin in college for nothing. It was just that Clarke was tired, muscle aching, head throbbing, bone crushing tired. She’d been scheduled for four weeks of back to back shifts in the emergency room, spent her time away from the hospital on call, and picked up overtime in the trauma department because Miller was out on paternity leave. And here she was, finally, after weeks of restless sleep on cots dragged into closets and microwave rice packets for dinner, Clarke was on her way home. She had been dreaming about this moment since Monday, when she’d been called away from her couch for a multi-car pileup. Which had somehow turned into four extra days of work, probably due to her inability to say no to her co-workers. Clarke sighed, that always came back to bite her.  

       As the door to her apartment swung open, keys flung in the direction of the kitchen table and like the living dead Clarke shuffled over to the lumpy couch adjacent from the window which Raven was still trying to get her to drag to the landfill. “It looks like a beanbag had sex with a refrigerator Clarke! You need an upgrade or you’re going to have to start paying me compensation for having to walk past this monstrosity everyday.”

       She let out a groan, tipping face first over the arm of couchzilla sighing contentedly as she flopped around happily, getting settled for a quick three hour nap before she had to deal with the million other tasks that had been shoved aside for over a month. 

    Her phone buzzed. Clarke ignored it. Octavia can go fuck herself for all she cared. It buzzed again. And again. Clarke groaned. Two more texts lit up the screen in rapid succession. One from O, one from Raven. And then, because the gods apparently had no mercy, her phone began to ring. 

       “Octavia Blake,” snarled Clarke, still face down in the cushions. “You had better be bleeding out on the side of the road somewhere or so help me they will never find your body.” 

       “Clarkeeee” Octavia whined through the phone, and Clarke could picture the pouty face that came along with it. “Look, I know you just got off work for like, the first time in a year, but there’s this bar—” Clarke groaned. “No, look, I know the last thing you probably want to do right now is go out tonight,” Octavia was speaking faster now, in an effort to get her whole argument out before Clarke hung up. “But there is this band, at this like really awesome bar, and, like, according to Raven everyone in the band is smoking hot and they’re really really good.. like probably too good to be playing at some tiny bar in the middle of downtown on some random Friday night” 

       “Octavia, I’m not going out”

       “Please Clarke, it’s Ravens favorite band, and she told me to do whatever to get you to come. Please Clarkey, I’ll do your dishes for a week and—”

       “Wait” Clarke sat up slowly, “you said it was Ravens favorite band?”

       “Yeah some weird name like trees, or something.. Can’t remember. Anyways–”

       “Woods.”

       “What Clarke?”

       “Woods, the band. Ravens favorite band is Woods. I live with her O, she plays it nonstop every waking moment she’s home. She’s got a crush on the drummer or something, I don’t know”

       “Yeah, well, we’re going tonight girl, take a shower, brush your hair!”

       “Octavia, no I can’t—”

       “Love you Clarkey-poo, you won’t regret this! I’ll be by at 7 to pick you both up!”

       Clarke stared at the black screen in her hand, shaking her head she rose from the couch making her way into her bedroom peeling off her scrubs she’d been too tired to change out of at the hospital. She checked her watch, it was about five thirty. That was enough time for a nap, if she was quick about it. Making sure to set all three alarms she crawled into her bed burrowing into the pillow and dropped quickly into sleep. 


	2. Someone New

       The next few hours were a blur, Raven had come home, burst into Clarke’s room and dragged her physically out of bed in her excitement. Once the shock of ending up on the floor had passed and Clarke was done chasing her around with a pillow, they began the long process of getting ready for a night out. The girls tore through their apartment like a tornado, leaving both closets, the bathroom and kitchen looking like a war zone. Octavia had shown up a little after seven wearing the same black jacket as Clarke, forcing her to scramble back into the fray, emerging victorious a few moments later in her favorite blue quilted bomber. Which, if she was being honest, was a better look anyways.

    The ride to the bar was uneventful until about three blocks out. Cars lined the street, people wandered through the moving vehicles all honking, jostling for a spot in the chaos. Clarke shared a look with Octavia from the passenger's seat. “Um, Raven?” Clarke looked over her shoulder at the girl in the back practically bouncing in her seat. “Just, exactly how popular is this band? I don’t think we’re going to be able to get in at this rate.” The girl grinned back at her, reaching into her pocket she produced three red wristbands. 

    “Lucky for you losers, this girls electrical engineering degree actually paid off, I did all the structural design and wiring for the bar when they remodeled a few months ago. The owner Indra sent these to work today as a thank you.” Raven passed then each a band with a wink and a smug nod. “I guess I’m the most valuable member of this group.” she chuckled 

    “Raven, I literally save peoples lives for a living.” Clarke shook her head at her friend antics. Raven flicked her dark hair over a shoulder and blew Clarke a kiss,

    “Like I said, most valuable member.” Clarke threw her mascara at Ravens head. 

    “Yo, tweedledum, tweedledummer, we’re here” Octavia expertly navigated her car into one of the last miraculously open spots. They hopped out, walking the last block to the bar. The crowd outside, just like the volume of cars, was much larger than Clarke had expected for such a small establishment. The neon sign above the entrance labeling the space “Grounders” flickered, throwing the face of the enormous man standing at the door into shadow. Raven, still grumbling that she “had better not be tweedledummer..” forced her way through the packed bodies until she was face to face with the towering figure. Face to chest was probably a more accurate description Clarke noted. 

    “Reyes,” a smile cracked his imposing face.

    “Hiya Gustus, awfully nice of your boss to extend an invitation.” Raven grinned back, exchanging a cheerful hi-five with the man. 

    Gustus snorted, “don’t let her hear you say that’s, she’ll claim she’s gone soft and then we’ll both be out of work.” He shared a nod and a wink with Raven before glancing over his shoulder. “These two with you?” Gesturing at Octavia and Clarke with his chin. Raven nodded, throwing an arm around the two girls. 

       “Clarke, Octavia, Gustus, Indra's husband and the tallest man I know. Gustus, meet my best friends.” Cordial greetings were exchanged all around and with that they were ushered inside. 

 

    Grounders, Clarke quickly realized, was an incredible space. The room inside the door was taken up by a bar along the left wall, tables and booths took up the right half. The dark wood counter complemented with brushed metal accents and warm wood paneling. It felt like stepping into a cabin in the woods, if that cabin had very,  _ very _ , good taste. The space didn’t scream of wealth, but rather someone with an incredible eye for design who knew how to bend a space to their will. Clarke was struck by the soft lighting, the faint smell of pine mingled with woodsmoke and high end whiskey. It wasn’t at all what she was expecting, but found herself pleasantly surprised. The room wasn’t crowded, sure it was full, but there was no claustrophobic feeling, it wasn’t loud or tightly packed like the clubs she was used to with flashing lights and sweating bodies. Raven chuckled next to her looking at both her face and Octavia’s. “Good right? C’mon, Indra will set us up with drinks.” 

       The bar was attended by a small woman with close cropped hair, and a fire in her eyes that said this wasn’t someone to cross. Seeing Raven, the woman nodded at her stretching out a hand across the bar and clasping wrists with her. The made eye contact and released each other. “Glad you made it.” The woman’s voice was gruff and low carrying an air of authority. 

    “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world ma’am.” Indra nodded seemingly pleased with her answer. She slid three tumblers toward the three of the, pouring a shot of clear liquid into each. Motioning for the three of them to drink. Clarke raised the glass to her mouth, stopping to smell the liquid before taking a sip

       “Bourbon?” Clarke muttered surprised, she had been expecting gin or perhaps vodka. Octavia cocked a brow at her. “What? I mean, it makes sense, starting with a lighter whiskey, that way your first drink is has a richer, more fruitful flavor than the darker ones. It’s proper to start with a lighter liquor.” Octavia looked at her skeptically. “My mom sent me to finishing school O, I can’t help that I have manners.”

    Indra on the other hand barked out a laugh. “You know your drinks, girl.” She turned to Raven, “I suppose your friends are adequate.” Raven broke into a grin. “You, girl, what is your name?”

    “Clarke.”

    “Well Clarke,” she said, clipping the k at the end, “welcome to Grounders.” She turned back to Raven and Octavia, who was looking especially put out. “They’re downstairs when you’re ready, make sure not to miss it.” The was a gleam of pride in her eye as she turned away to help another customer. And that’s when Clarke realized she could feel music coming up through the floor. The vibrations of the base through the soles of her shoes was the most noticeable, but as she became aware of it, the low thrum of cords and snippets of a muffled voice broke through the chatter of the bar. It seemed Raven and Octavia had become aware of the music at the same time she did, because with a shared look, they hurried to the back of the room where a flight of stairs led down and the music got louder. 

 

       Clarke followed her friends down the stairs, the music building, moving through her body. Simple drums, a messy electric guitar, bass, she began to pick out individual instruments blending together into something between r&b and indie rock. Even to Clarke’s untrained ear the sound was well balanced and carefully crafted. Everything there was meant to be. And that voice. What had only been a dull hum from upstairs had blossomed as they made their way down. Even through the shut door at the end of the hallway Clarke was captivated. She’d heard that voice before from Ravens speakers around the house, but hadn’t thought much of it, wrapped up in her own head. But here, now, with it vibrating through her chest, surrounding her, this was different. Low, with a soft gravel, but urgent at the same time, she swallowed hard. There was something about that voice, so melodic and sure that stirred something deep inside her. It sounded like the way falling in love feels, she realized. With so much depth and promise, like sun kissed skin and soft sheets. Clarke was mesmerized. 

       “Earth to Griffin,” Octavia shook her friends shoulder. “Clarke!”

       “Mm?”

       “Come on dude you’re blocking the door.”

       “God, I’m sorry O hold on” they shuffled around in the tight space, Raven finally throwing open the door. Clarke struggled to compose herself, still not quite able to swallow the emotions rising in her throat. Raven cheered and practically flung herself though the door calling for them to follow.

       “You gotta keep an eye out for the drummer, she’s a total knockout.” Raven and Octavia wove through the crowd, Octavia pulling Clarke by the hand into the crowded space. The room was fairly large, but packed to the brim with people. An elevated stage on the far side held what Clarke assumed was the band, but couldn’t see past the crowd well enough to make anything out. 

       The music swelled into a chorus, and god, that voice, it was unlike anything Clarke had ever experienced. She was drawn to it, without explanation or consideration, she followed blindly through the crowd until they broke through the front, right at the base of the stage. The bridge of the song was ending, a chorus of voices and the messy guitar, pounding drums. Raven was cheering, singing along staring up at the stage. Clarke’s eyes followed Ravens raising them to the stage. And oh. Her breath stuck in her chest. The owner of the haunting voice overflowing from the room was easily the most beautiful person Clarke had ever seen. The girl on stage, in tight black pants that made Clarke’s mouth feel even drier, a deep green sweater, sleeves hastily pushed up, tattoos wrapping around strong forearms. And her hands, slim and tapered, wrapped around a grey electric guitar, strong fingers working skillfully over the strings, producing the bittersweet melody. Her eyes closed, curly brown hair pulled into a bun that was only partially working, braids woven in and out of the wild mane. Her brows furrowed in concentration and full lips pressed to the microphone in front of her, harmony pouring out of her. 

       Clarke was frozen, cheeks flushed and heart hammering, as the bridge broke and everything but the girl and her guitar stopped. Eyes snapped open, deep green staring off into the middle distance as words tumbled from her mouth, slow and sure. Her eyes focused, starting to drift across the room, Clarke watching in rapt attention until they landed on her. The force of those eyes was enough to make her step back slightly. They stared at one another, fire burning deep in her impossibly green eyes.  Clarke could’ve sworn she heard those sure fingers falter, missing half a beat. The eye contact broke as the girl on the stage ripped hers away, the rest of the band rising again. Her chest swelled with breath as they entered the last chorus, her eyes jumping around frantically, landing briefly back on Clarke while she sang about a girl running hands through her hair and calling her baby. Clarke blushed under the weight of those eyes, the connotation clear, dipping her head slightly in embarrassment at the swoop of her stomach. Looking back up, the girl was focused on a spot hung in space, no longer seeing the room in front of her. The song ended with final punching notes, to uproarious applause. The lead singer waved her hand to quiet the crowd, grinning, before starting again.

       Clarke stood exactly where she was for the better portion of the next hour, eyes not leaving the girl on stage as she worked though the remainder of the set. Sure she felt a bit creepy, standing in the front row gaping at this girl in plain sight, oblivious to her surroundings, but god she was too captivating to look away. It was all made worth it when a line about lying down next to a girl in bed was accompanied with a very pointed look and a wink in Clarke’s direction. Followed by a smirk as the blonde whipped around frantically trying to figure out if it was, in fact, directed at her. The crowd, seeing the singers blatant flirting, went wild. Knowing that someone in their midst had been on the receiving end of that attention brought a whole new level of enthuseasum to the room. Clarke felt like she was going to pass out. 

    With waves, bows and shouted thanks, the band finally left the stage, lead by the singer. A tall girl with similarly wild hair, and a man only slightly smaller than Gustus followed. Two other girls who looked about Clarke’s age brought up the rear, and like that, it was over. 

    The spell was broken when Octavia launched herself at Clarke screaming something about the tall, dark, and handsome bass player. Raven was on the other side, equally excited about the drummer, which turned out to be the tall severe looking woman Clarke had only noticed as she was leaving the stage. 

       “That was phenomenal!” Octavia was squealing in Clarke’s ear.

       “I told you!! I’m still bummed we missed the first few songs.”

       “Yeah but did you see the bass player, was he a dream?” Octavia pinched herself jokingly to drive the point home. “What did you think Clarkey?” Both girls drew back, expectant looks on their faces. 

       “Woah, earth to Clarke, you okay there? You get your brain melted by that super hot drummer?” Raven jokingly pushed her shoulder. “Hey. Clarke, you okay?”

    Clarke swallowed thickly, trying to jumpstart her brain again, knowing there was nothing she could do about her pink cheeks. “Who  _ was _ that?” She looked wildly between her friends. 

    “Who? The singer?” Clarke nodded “that’s Woods, the band is named after her, she’s kind of a big deal Clarke, who did you think she was?” Raven looked at her with exasperation. Clarke only nodded mutely. Woods. She turned the name over in her mind a couple of times, placing a name to those gorgeous green eyes. 

   “I think...” she trailed off, “I think I have a crush Ray.” 

   “Uh, Yeah, no duh Griffin,” The girl rolled her eyes, “we both saw you ogling her for the last hour.” Octavia nodded agreement. 

  “You’re both assholes, and I’m going upstairs, I need a drink.”

  “Yeah I bet you do, there’s no hiding that thirst!” Octavia called after her as she grumbled away. The two girls shared a laugh at their friends expense before following her back up into the bar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :>


	3. From Eden

     Indra met the at the bar without a frown, which Raven informed them was her equivalent of smiling ear to ear. Both Raven and Octavia ordered shots, while Clarke sipped on a coke, having been dubbed the designated driver for the night given her lack of interest in getting plastered after a thirty six hour shift. They drank, laughed together, at each other, Raven and Octavia both turning our their pockets at Clarke beat both of them at pool, twice. They wasted another hour or so at the bar, gossiping over their drinks until Clarke looked up from their table to see Indra making her way purposely toward them at the back of the room. She tried to quiet Raven and Octavia who were lost in a fit of giggles at something Raven had slurred.

    “Are you a nurse?”

    “I’m sorry?” Clarke shook her head trying to focus of the woman instead of her guffawing friends.

    “Are you a nurse,” repeated Indra looking her up and down. “You have an Arkadia General ID badge attached to your keys. I saw it when you got your wallet out to pay for the drinks.” The woman was matter of fact in her observation.

   “I’m, yeah,” Clarke was flustered, running on too little sleep and too much stimulus. “I’m actually a doctor in the emergency and trauma center.” Sleep was quickly draining from her body, replaced by the familiar surge of adrenaline that accompanied her work. “Is everyone alright? Where’s the problem, how many people?” She was halfway out of her chair without a second though, propelled into motion by hours and hours of training.

   “Slow down, no one is dying, at least not yet,” The woman grimaced shaking her head. “I need a favor, if you don’t mind.” She looked at the girl. Clarke glanced at her friends who seemed to be playing some drunken variant of charades. She hesitated. “Don’t worry about your friends, I’ll look after them.” Indra assured her. “Please. Follow me.”

       Clarke rose from her chair hurrying after the woman who walked through a dark wooden door next to the bar, hidden in the design of the walls. Stairs leading up to a second floor lay beyond, Indra motioned for her to follow, leading Clarke up.

       

       Voices and a sliver of light spilled from the open door at the end of the hall, raised enough for Clarke to make out what they were saying.

    “Anya, I said I’m fine, look I can handle it!” A woman's voice floated down the corridor.

    “You’re bleeding on my nice sofa. You’re not fine, you need help, you stubborn child!”

    “Anya...” a man's voice joined the fray, warning clear in his tone. An angry huff was the only response. Muted cursing, the clink of glass on glass, and a muffled sound of pain followed.

    Indra pushed the door the rest of the way open revealing what looked like a living room, couches and chairs, a glass coffee table, a tv tucked in a corner. The three people in the room all looked up at as they entered, Clarke trailing behind. The tall girl, the drummer Clarke remembered was pacing in front of the couch, the large man was sprawled in a chair, an open gym bag at his feet. On the couch, with that familiar fire in her eyes and blood on her face sat the singer. Clarke’s breath caught. She glanced at Indra who nodded slightly and motioned the the girl with her head. Clarke could feel the blush creep up her neck as she walked closer to the girl. The girl looked at her with an unreadable face, those piercing eyes passed over Clarke once, twice before glancing over her shoulder to Indra, brow cocked.

       “I’m, um..” Clarke stumbled on her words, blushing deeper in embarrassment. “I’m Dr. Griffin, I’m part of the Arkadia General’s emergency and trauma team.” Gaining confidence she pressed on, stepping closer to the girl. “Indra said something had happened, can I take a look?”

       “Great, a sixteen year old med student who thinks she can be a hero and save everyone..” the taller girl rolled her eyes scoffing and resuming her pacing.

    “Anya,” Indras voice was clipped and stern. “That’s enough.” The girl fell silent. Clarke bit her tongue, trying not to take the insult personally. People were cruel when those they cared about were hurt she reminded herself. Head down, do your job.

    “What happened?” She crouched next to the girl, trying not to be distracted by the smell of fresh spruce tree that rolled off the girl, mixed with the metallic tang of blood. There didn't actually seem to be a lot of blood now that she was closer, she’d seen worse, but this still seemed pretty serious.

    The girl huffed, rolling her eyes and turning away. “I fought a bear in the parking lot.”

    “Ah,” Clarke nodded, “a bear made of broken glass.” Clarke eyed a bloody shard tossed on the coffee table. “With no teeth, fur, or claws, of course, don’t know why I asked.” The girls head swiveled back around to glare at her. Clarke let out a chuckle. The girl reminded her of a grumpy child caught in a lie. “What really happened? As soon as I know what I’m looking for I can fix you up and you’ll be rid of me.” She heard a quiet “good” from Anya who had started pacing the room again. Clarke could’ve sworn pink tinged the girls cheeks as she cleared her throat again.

       “I fell. On some glass. Busted up my knees and my hand.” The girl looked up at her from the couch, as if challenging her to press for more. Clarke sighed, kneeling down in front of the girl and taking a look.

       “Do you have a first aid kit?” The man in the chair rummaged briefly in his gym bag before pulling out a box and thrusting it at Clarke. “Thanks—” she trailed off, not knowing the man’s name.

       “Lincoln.”

       “Thank Lincoln.” She shot him a small smile. Turning back to her patient fuming on the couch she opened the kit, glad to find a small flashlight as part of the contents. Pulling it out she flipped it on to examine the girls knees in front of her. There was more blood with the light on she realized, the dark fabric having hidden it. She could see clear slivers of glass poking out through the fabric. She motioned for the girl to hold out her hand. Luckily she compiled without resistance and Clarke could see more glass buried deep in the heel of the girls hand along with what looked like gravel and some dirt. Clarke swallowed again, praying that the tiny box on the table had what she needed, but at this point it wasn’t looking optimistic. As she feared, the kit consisted mostly of alcohol wipes and bandaids, nothing close to the level of supplies she needed to deal with something like this.

       She let out a breath turning to look at Indra who was still watching by the door. “I need to take her in.” She heard a short intake of breath from the girl on the couch as both Anya and Lincoln turned to her. “The wounds are too deep, and I’m afraid of damage to the joint tissue of the left knee. Removing the glass here would be unsanitary and dangerous, and I have nothing to stitch her up with.” She turned back to the girl. “You’d risk bleeding out and going into shock, I can’t fix this here.” Indra opened her mouth to speak, stepping towards Clarke with a serious expression.

       “I’ll go.” A small voice rose from the couch.

       “You don’t have to, we can find a real doctor who can fix you here, can’t we?” Anya looked at Indra expectantly.

       “Cool it Anya, I’ll be fine.” The girl rose from the couch with a muffled groan. Looking at Clarke she spoke in a serious tone. “I hate hospitals, I hate doctors and medicine, but I trust your opinion. If you can get me in an out with as little human interaction as possible, I would appreciate it.” She looked at Clarke expectantly.

    “We can take my car.” She waved Octavia’s BMW keys, thankful they’d taken her friends nicer sports car, instead of her own messy clunker. The girl nodded, grimacing as she slowly began walking to the door.

    “Get your car, come to the backlot, I’ll meet you there, there’s an alley at the end of the block.” The girl jabbed a finger over her shoulder at the exterior wall. Clarke nodded and jogged off to get the car. On the six minute journey, the reality of what was actually happening struck her. She was about to get in a car with the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. She had to be in close to proximity to this green eyed wonder for at least the twelve minutes it took to get to the hospital, and then. She shook her head, it was already too much, no need to get ahead of herself. She tried to quell the rising anxiety in her chest. She really had no idea what she was doing, how was she supposed to sit in a confined space with this girl and not say something dumb? She tried to take a couple deep breathes, remembering that this is what Raven referred to as her “Gay Panic”, the “I’m Bi Raven..” only earning her a wave and the classic “Gay panic is still Gay panic even if you’re Bi Clarke.” response everytime Clarke stumbled over her coffee order, or tripped trying to get a glimpse of a pretty girl at the park. Thankfully she made it to the car without incident, and managed to find the alley at the end of the block without issue.

    Once the girl had been settled into the passenger's side of the car with the help of Lincoln and a lot of grumbling, they were on their way. The girl had examined the interior of the car as they drove, black leather, manual transmission. Clarke praised the gods that she knew how to drive stick and didn’t immediately stall the car, she didn’t think she could’ve survived the mortification.

    “Series 4?”

    “Hmm?”

    “The car. Is it a Series 4?” The girl spoke up again, eyes fixed straight ahead on the road. Clarke nodded, shifting down in preparation of a hill.

    “My friend Octavia, she’s a professional athlete. It’s her car, that's why it’s so extra, just like her. I mean,” Clarke laughed to herself, “Matte black exterior and matte rims? It’s not like we’re the batmobile.” She often made fun of Octavia about that, calling the underground garage she had “the bat cave” and everything.

    “I like the matte. But you can never go wrong with the dark grey model.” The girl momentarily became surprisingly animated, using her good hand to gesture around the vehicle. “The standard for this model is a three litere straight four cylinder engine, but the shift range on this one feels more like a six cylinder.” Clarke glanced over, surprised. “I mean, it’s not like you need that kind of power on roads like these, it's not like you're going to be going to be going 150 Kilometers per hour on the way to the grocery store.” The girl looked at Clarke expectantly, and when the blonde chuckled, she was rewarded with a small smile. “Can I offer some advice?” the question was hesitant, and doubtful, like she was waiting to be shut down.

     “Sure, like I said, it’s not my car so if you know any secrets you better spill.” She laughed gesturing at the controls.

     “I can feel in the vibration of the car that you are shifting a bit early, these sport models are meant to be pushed.” The brown haired girl patted the dashboard affectionately. “Wait until you can feel the hum right before the car starts to protest to engage to clutch. You’ll get a way smoother performance, and better turn-over.” She watched the road as Clarke began to accelerate onto a straight stretch. “Okay wait for it.. Keep pushing it, don’t worry. Okay, now shift.” The car purred under Clarkes touch. She grinned, laughing as the other girl pumped a fist in celebration. “Okay, now do that everytime.” They shared a smile in the dark car, the girl was so alive and animated, her eyes soft and open. Clarke opened her mouth to say speak, but her phone buzzed and the moment passed, the girl fading back into herself, walls going back up.

    “Yeah Miller, hi, tell me you’re still working,” she had shot him a text on her way to the car, hoping he was still at the hospital. His voice crackled through confirming he was. “I need you to prep me a room, make sure it’s by the west stair.” She paused, listening. “Mmhm. Either 104 or 106 works, I need you to get me a standard suture kit, a collection receptacle, go to my locker and grab two pairs of scrubs. I need to be in and out fast.” A pause, “I told you, you owe me this, no questions asked. Oh and Miller? Make sure you grab the locking forceps this time.” She ended the call tossing her phone back into the cup holder.

    “I guess you are a real doctor then.” The girl was looking at her again, illuminated periodically by the passing streetlights.

    “Six years of med school and my crippling debt would probably say so, yeah.” Clarke grinned despite herself. Even bleeding out in her friends car this stranger was charming. The girl hummed in agreement and began fiddling with the radio. The rest of the car ride was silent except for the quiet stream of classical music though the radio, and the stifled intake of air where the car hit bumps in the road. 

 

Just as she’d hoped, after swiping her keycard and ushering the girl the the back door and into the west stair, Miller had left room 104 open for her, prepped and waiting. Clarke let out a sigh, grateful to not have seen anyone on the way in. She motioned to the chair in the center of the room. The girl nervously but obediently hopped up, watching the doctor walk around the room gathering her supplies, unzipping her soft blue jacket and pulling on scrubs over her henley and jeans. She then double checked the door was locked, pulled the curtain around their half of the room and switched on the examination light. 

    “Making sure no one will interrupt us?” The girl wiggles her eyebrows as she joked but Clarke heard the quiver in her voice betraying fear. Clarke pretended not to, shooting her a grin and a raised eyebrow that she hoped was comforting. 

    Reaching into the kit she brought out surgical scissors, looking up at the girl, “how attached are you to these pants?” The girl visibly blanched.

    “Um.. I mean, I’ve got three other pairs at home?” Clarke nodded. Cutting a hole around the wound on the first knee, then the other. Satisfied with her work she set the scissor aside. 

    “Strip.” 

    “Excuse.. excuse me?”

    “Your pants, take them off.” The girl looked at her in utter panic. Clarke sighed, they weren’t really in a hurry now, so she gave the girl pass. “Fine, we’ll do your hand first, but that means you’re going to be suffering for longer.” She held hers out expectantly. The girl gingerly placed her left hand into Clarke’s waiting right, her eyes flitting about the room. Cleaning the cuts as best she could, Clarke started removing the glass, dropping piece after piece into the waiting bowl. They sat in silence as the minutes ticked by until finally Clarke spoke. 

       “So you fell did you?” The girl nodded silently. Clarke had to admire her tolerance for pain, she didn’t make a sound, the only indication that Clarke was literally stitching her skin shut was the occasional narrowing of her eyes. “I’ve been doing this for awhile,” she pressed on “and to have wounds this deep and in these places, you’d have to have fallen from at least six feet up, and broken your fall by transferring the impact from your feet to your hands and knees. You don’t look like this from tripping.” Dark hair covered her face as she dipped her her head and averted her gaze. “Look, I’m not going to rat you out, I’m just curious, because you need a better cover story.” 

    “There was a cat.” Green eyes rose, searching Clarke’s face.

    “The was a cat. That clears everything up.” Clarke is rewarded with an eye roll and a soft huff. 

    “I was taking out some gear after the show, and I saw something by the bin, so I went to investigate and. There was a stray cat. Way too small and skinny, probably still a baby, poking through the garbage. So I tried to get close but I spooked it, and it ran up the side of a building across the alley.” The girl cleared her throat, continuing, “I went after it, followed it over the garage roof, and across the adjoining wall, I almost had it too, but the bricks were wet, and it was dark. I fell. Off the wall away from the alley, which is just an empty lot, with apparently a lot of broken glass. So yeah, I fell.”

    Clarke finished her stitching, applying a coat of second skin and dressing the fresh wound. She mulled the story over in her head for another moment. “So what happened to it? The cat. It’s still out there isn’t it.”

     The other girl looked defeated. “Yeah, probably going to end up as raccoon dinner or something.” The frown that accompanied the admission broke Clarkes heart. 

    “I’ll tell you what, if we get you all cleaned up, and I still get home before 2am, I’ll help you catch your cat tomorrow.” The grin Clarke was rewarded with made her heart flutter and her stomach feel kind of weird. She vowed to do everything in her power to make it happen again. For scientific purposes of course, she was a professional after all. 

     Finished with the hand, she could feel the anxiety start to grow in the girl again. She pulled out her tablet and started entering her supply usage. “Your name is Woods right?” The girl nodded, looking proud. Clarke typed it into the server, if Woods had been seen at any hospital in the area in the last ten years, that data would show up in the system. There were two results; Woods, Alexandria and Woods, Anya. Clarke selected the first one. Scanning the chart she looked for any names that jumped out at her. Monty Green, primary care physician. She glanced up at the girl, surprised that she had failed to mention she came to Arkadia General for regular checkups. She glanced back down, re-reading the chart because that didn’t make sense, Monty wasn’t a PCP, he worked in. Oh. Realization hit Clarke. That’s why she was so nervous about hospitals, about removing her clothing. She scrolled down further, past the regularly scheduled blood work, to the medications list, 17-beta estradiol 2x 6 mg/day. Clarke looked up at the nervous girl before her, her face softened. 

    “Do you want me to call you Woods?”

    “Lexa is fine.”

    “Lexa” Clarke liked the way it felt across her tongue. “I’m Clarke, Clarke Griffin.” the girl nodded slowly. “I um. Have your full chart here, I needed to update it with what we did here today.” Lexa watched her silently. “Monty, he’s a friend of mine, we went to school together. He and his husband just—”

    “Had a baby, I know he told me last time I had blood work.”

    “Nathan Miller, who called on the way over is his husband. We work together in trauma. I was covering for him while he was on leave the last two weeks.” The conversation started to feel less forced, Lexa looked far less skittish than she had a few minutes ago. Clarke liked this quiet mysterious girl sitting in the exam chair, she was charming, and, Clarke felt her cheeks heat up, distractingly beautiful. It wasn't fair Clarke decided, that someone like Lexa was allowed to walk the earth with mere mortals like herself. 

    “So you know then.” Lexa’s voice was small, “about me.” She looked like she was bracing herself for something horrible. It broke Clarkes heart. 

    “I mean, I know some of your medical history, yes. But I hardly know anything about you, except that you have an affinity for cats and getting into trouble. And you’re overdue for a flu shot.” Lexa let out a laugh at that, seeming at least a bit relieved. Clarke grinned. “Oh, I also know you sing. And it sounds like the sunrise.” Clarke’s eyes widened. She snapped her mouth shut, mortified. Sunrise? Really Clarke? Way to blow it Griffin. But to her surprise, Lexa blushed, her ears lighting up and her cheeks darkening. She dipped her head. 

    “Really?” She seemed surprised, that she could hold a power like that.

    “Yes, it’s incredible. You’re incredible.” Clarke, in an attempt to break the tension palpable in the air, spun back around to the table. “Now strip miss Woods.” The girl stood this time, still with a small, only slightly terrified smile.

    “Of course Dr. Griffin.”


	4. The Human Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be shorter and the next chapter way longer, but I have apparently misplaced 10k words somehow so this is what you get instead sorry!

    If Clarke thought she was ready for Lexa’s legs, she couldn’t have been more wrong. Turning around from where she had politely averted her gaze, strong, smooth thighs came into view. Red blood smeared down her knees and onto her powerful calves didn’t distract from the raw potential energy housed in these muscles. A band of tattoos wrapped up her left thigh, varying in width and pattern. Seven of them, not that she was counting. Tight black briefs and tall socks with what looked like little otters and hearts on them were all that remained. Clarke gulped audibly, Lexa, despite her embarrassment, chuckled. She’d clearly put a lot of work into this body, she knew she looked good.

    Clarke cleared her throat awkwardly, setting to work, extracting glass, cleaning, and stitching closed the girl in front of her. She was doing her best to ignore the lingering scent of a pine and the warmth emanating off the girl in front of her. Clarke had a hard time staying focused on fixing the girl in front of her. Sutures were nothing but muscle memory at this point, it was just that Lexa was right there. Like, right there, Clarke really wished she had a glass of water or something. Not wanting to make it weird, but needed to do her job, she leaned forward to examine the next wound. Lexa shifted slightly, self consciously, inadvertently bringing the soft bulge in her underwear closer to Clarke’s face. Maybe Clarkes heart skipped a few times, maybe she forgot to breathe a little bit, but that wasn’t important. This girl was fucking attractive, and Clarke was a weak bisexual mess who just wanted to kiss a pretty girls. And maybe some other things too but, that wasn't important either. Clarke felt arousal swoop low in her stomach. Rolling her eyes at her body's own betrayal she tried again to focus, clenching her teeth in a frustrated groan. Lexa shifted again slightly, looking at her in concern. 

    “You okay?” Clarke hummed a non-committal sound. Lexa shifted again bringing her face closer to Clarke’s. “You don’t seem okay, wait, don’t doctors work like crazy shifts? When was the last time you went home? How long was your last shift?” The concern in Lexa’s eyes was endearing. Clarke shrugged, finishing the other knee, sitting up to grab the bandages. A hand shot out, gently grabbing her chin, Lexa’s fingers were warm, but she could feel the callouses from hours of practice against the soft skin of her face. “Clarke..” big green eyes stared into Clarke’s. “When was the last time you slept?” A rush of affection for this stranger washed over Clarke, this woman was seriously unreal. 

    “I took a fifteen minute nap this afternoon when my shift ended before my dumb roommate woke me up...” she trailed off in thought, trying desperately to remember the last time she’d had a real nights sleep. “I was on duty for the last thirty six hours, and then on call before that, and then I had Millers shift to cover and another thirty six hour stretch before that.. I don’t remember anything else really.” Clarke sighed rubbing her eyes. 

    “Come home with me?” Clarkes head jerked in shock, she felt the blood rush to her face. Lexa rolled her eyes. “Not like that. As a thank you. Come sleep at my house, I have a guest room, I’ll make you breakfast in the morning to make this up to you.” She gestured between them and at the tin of bloody gauze and glass pieces. “That way you can escape the responsibilities waiting at your house without feeling guilty about it.” Lexa grinned at her. “I make incredible pancakes.” Clarke mulled the offer over, weighing it out in her head. Just as Lexa started to look nervous again, like maybe she’d made a mistake, maybe she’d read too far into this, Clarke stood, grabbing the clean pair of scrubs from the tray and tossing them to Lexa. 

    “I like blueberries in mine.” Was all Clarke offered before laughing and ducking around the curtain to give Lexa some privacy. As if she hadn’t just basically had her face in the other girls crotch. She rolled her eyes cursing Lexa’s gorgeous face. Clarke sighed longingly, visions of those powerful legs floating through her mind. “I bet she has a six pack too” Clare muttered under her breath.

    “I do.” The curtain drew back suddenly revealing a miraculously blood free Lexa smirking in sky blue scrub pants and her now slightly dirty oversized green sweater. Clarke jumped slightly,  cursing. Then shaking her head, because nobody should look that good in scrubs. Her scrubs, she realized blushing, Lexa definitely wore them better. She rolled her eyes and unlocked the door, switching off the lights and shooting Miller a text as they left. 

  
The drive to Lexa’s apartment was uneventful, quiet except for the occasional direction for Clarke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, and Clarke couldn’t bring herself to interrupt as Lexa hummed along with the classical station. Clarke was again struck by how soft and sure her voice was, the way it filled the car, like sinking into a hot bath. Clarke felt her muscles relax, and her breathing slow, mesmerized by the other girl.

“The light’s yellow Clarke, you should probably slow down.” She obeyed the instruction before really processing what was happening. They pulled to a stop at the now red light. “Where did you drift off to Dr. Griffin?” Lexa was smiling at her, not looking totally at ease, and Clarke couldn’t blame her, she was supposed to be responsible for operating a three-thousand pound death trap, not getting lost in Lexa’s charm. Clarke cleared her throat,

“Sorry, I was a little distracted by the radio..” she trailed off hoping to not have to explain further as the light turned green. Lexa reaches over to switch it off shooting her an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I don’t really know how to move through life without music, it just becomes a habit. Anya says I hum along, and has banned me from riding shotgun.” She chuckled, having enough self-awareness to look sheepish. “Just take the right up here, and you can pull into that spot in front of the second house. The one with the light on, yep, perfect.” Clarke followed her instructions carefully, pulling to the open spot. Lexa sighed, steeling herself for the walk up the stairs and into her house. She wished she’d thought to pick up the living room before leaving. 

They walked up the stairs together, and as Lexa moved to unlock the door, the blonde looked at her pointedly. “You apologize a lot, you have nothing to be sorry for, at least not to me, I just met you remember?” Lexa nodded, smiling softly as she swung the door open and they stepped into the hall. 

The first thing Clarke noticed was how much the space screamed of Lexa. Modern furniture mixed with a rustic design scheme. The hall opened into a large sun room with a moderately sized table, and a row of south facing windows overlooking a tree filled yard and the city skyline. To the left was a hallway that led into the kitchen, Clarke could see a granite island with a bowl of fruit. Through the sunroom, it looked like there was another hallway leading back into darkness. To the right was a small lounge area with a couch and a comfy armchair. A third hallway stretched off to the right and turned the corner. As Clarkes eyes swept across the space, a pop of color caught her attention. Kicking off her shoes she crossed quickly to the couch ignoring Lexa’s confused mummer of her name. She snatched the familiar red jacket from where it had been deposited haphazardly on the back of the grey couch. The was no mistaking it, but she brought it to her nose just in case. The familiar scent of motor oil and electrical fire met her nose and she recoiled whipping around to Lexa brandishing the jacket. 

“Lexa, does anyone else live here?” the other girl looked just as confused as Clarke. She shook her head, fumbling for her phone, trying not to jostle her stitches in the process. 

“I mean, Anya sometimes crashes here. She lives above the bar, and likes to use my guest room when she has, um, ‘guests’ over. I’ve never seen that jacket before in my life though?” She grimaced, still trying to pull her phone out the scrubs. “Do you think someone broke in?” She looked genuinely scared and Clarke’s fury subsided into something closer to annoyance. She crossed back to where Lexa was standing in the doorway. 

“Do you mind if I yell?” Lexa looked even more lost, but simply shrugged and nodded. Clarke took a deep breathe. “RAVEN REYES YOU HAD BETTER GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW AN EXPLAIN WHAT YOU’RE DOING IN THIS HOUSE!” 

Clarke watched the still room expectantly. A surprised yelp sounded from deep within the house followed by a loud thump, muffled cursing and the sound of bare feet on a hardwood floor. A door opened and then slammed shut followed by more footsteps. Clarke turned to the right, following the sound and just as she had expected, a very naked Raven Reyes in nothing but a sheet appeared in the doorway. Lexa’s mouth dropped open. Raven waved halfheartedly at them, looking only somewhat ashamed of herself. 

“Hiya, Clarke. Fancy seeing you here..” Raven shifted to the side as a very crabby Anya in shorts and a backwards t-shirt also appeared. Her eyes darted back and forth between the pair. Clarke shifted awkwardly. Lexa, who had finally gotten a hold of her phone and was scrolling through her alerts looked up, tapping Clarke on the elbow. 

“Um. Clarke? She technically did text like an hour ago that they were coming over..” Lexa’s mouth snapped shut as Clarke fixed her with a pointed look. She then looked past Clarke to where Anya and Raven stood now looking not nearly as sheepish as they should. Lexas face schooled into an unreadable mask. “You two can stay, but if I hear one single peep out of either of you, you’re going to end up naked in the backyard. I’m making breakfast tomorrow, neither of you are invited.” And with that she turned on her heel and marched off in the direction of the dark hall without looking back. Clarke threw Ravens jacket at her with a small chuckle and a knowing wink, before dropping her bag her and following the taller girl further into the house.     



End file.
